


Forgetting how to exist

by Ex-Genesis (orphan_account)



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Romance, Time Fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ex-Genesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're coming back from the world tour when Nick crashes and when he wakes up, really wakes up, Joe's worst nightmare has become a reality, and Nick's the one who has to live through it.</p><p> </p><p>A story about a boy who is completely forgotten, whose existence is undone, and whose life is un-etched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting how to exist

Hand on the small of Nick's back, Joe follows his brother into their hotel room, laughing as Nick makes a cutting remark about one of the girls they had met that day. "I think she actually believed you when you said you would marry her. I can't believe - Oh my God, Joe," Nick says, laughing as he toes off his shoes by the door while Joe pulls his jacket off. He then takes Nick's from him before taking off his own shoes and lays their jackets over the entrance table. "I can't believe," he said, grin wide as he turned to face his brother, "she actually got down on one knee and _proposed_ to you." Joe laughs some more, lifting his hand to look at the ring. Nick takes his hand and brings it to his face, looking it over for himself. "Well," he says, biting his lip white for a second, "At least she didn't spend much on it."  
  
"Hey..." Joe says, trying to sound offended while even though he's smiling, and his chest is shaking with held-back chuckles, "You calling my future wife cheap, Nicholas?" Something bright flashes in Nick's eyes. A game. Okay...  
  
"Maybe," he drawls, drawing it out as Joe shakes his head, putting on his angry face. Nick nearly looses it at that, his body threatening to crumple into itself.  
  
"Oh no you didn't!" Joe yells, tackling Nick to the bed, rolling him around on top of the covers, wrinkles spreading everywhere like spilled water. Laughing so hard they can hardly breathe anymore, Nick and Joe pause their game. Ending on top of Joe, Nick holds himself up, hands on either side of Joe's head while they catch their breath. Finally after snorting out some air, Joe smiles. "You're not my best man if you can't treat my woman like a princess."  
  
Quirking an eyebrow, Nick asks incredulously, "Oh your woman, huh? Well your woman should probably know a few things before you both get married, or she might get some unwelcome surprises someday, hmm?" He presses the tip of his right index finger into Joe's lower lip, watches as Joe smiles with his eyes and then darken slightly, kicking Nick's heart into some kind of over-drive. Slipping Nick's finger tip in his mouth, he bites gently, making Nick's mouth fall open as he whips his finger to his side and wipes away the spit. "Gross, Joseph," he reprimands, looking his finger over before curling the now-completely dry hand over Joe's shoulder. Joe rolls his eyes in response. "Yeah, yeah," Nick says, feeling his body threaten to lean forward. But not yet. Just not yet... He pulls his leg over to one side of Joe's body so that he's just kneeling beside him on the bed.  
  
Inhaling sharply, Joe looks up to into his brother's face, eyebrows creeping up his forehead so his eyes can widen for better sight. "You're good, Nicky." Nick nods in response. So far, that had been how they voiced their feelings. Random assurance of human decency that didn't really fit in with the situation, moments of their lives filled with almost-kisses because they aren't ready yet.  
  
In silence, they sit there for a few minutes before Nick lies on his back beside Joe. "Home tomorrow. You ready?" Joe shakes his head, so Nick runs his fingers through the short hair on his older brother's head. "They won't care when we fall asleep in the same bed watching movies, Joe. They never have before." Nick smiles softly as Joe sighs and rolls on to his side, one arm holding his head up, and the other dragging over so that his fingers can toy with the hem of Nick's shirt. "It'll be nice. Our pool. Our backyard. Our beds. And only for what, half a month?" Joe's eyes flash up to Nick's and he nods after a second of consideration.  
  
"I know. I just feel weird about this. About going home, Nick... I don't know why, but I do. I just want to -" When his brother's voice falls off, Nick reaches over and put his arms under Joe's, pulling until Joe lay half on top of him. Joe puts his face in Nick's neck, plays with the short curls above his baby brother's ear. "Can we stay here? Just for a while? Let's not go home."  
  
It takes a few minutes of quiet, of Joe brushing his nose over the skin on his neck. "You mean it, don't you? You think something's going to happen... Joe, you've been acting weird all day. What's up?" he asks, voice gentle yet prodding enough to get Joe to talk to him. He feels his brother shrug in his arms, and tightens his arms around his back. "Joe."  
  
That propels Joe just enough. "I don't know. It's just... I had a dream last night, and it was just really fucked up, okay? I feel weird. I feel awful when I think about it, and it feels..."  
  
"Real?" Joe shakes his head. "What..?"  
  
"Like it will be," Joe says, shutting his eyes tight and pressing into Nick more. Nick rubs his back tiredly and lets one hand slip into Joe's hair.  
  
"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asks, frowning when Joe shakes his head, no.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Clearing his throat, Nick pats Joe's back. Rolling away, Joe gets off the bed and begins pulling off his clothes as Nick does the same. Once they're in their boxers, they climbed back into the bed, under the covers and as Joe plays with Nick's dog tags, Nick reached over to shut off the light. "I don't know if I can go to sleep."  
  
Smiling, Nick gently pushes Joe back to lay down more saying, "Sure you can. It wasn't real. I'm sure it won't ever be real."  
  
Thinking about it for a long, apparently hard minute, Joe finally responds, upset expression slipping away. "Right. Of course not." Joe flipped over on his stomach then, merely switches the hand in which he holds Nick's necklace. Nick runs his fingers over Joe's forearm and then yawns. "Night, Nicky." He watches Nick until he falls asleep. He's still afraid to close his eyes, but eventually they fall, and he doesn't have the dream again.  
  
Getting on the plane early the next morning, Nick doesn't feel very well. It isn't anything huge, but he feels off. His levels appear to be okay. Maybe a bit lower than is ideal, but Nick figures it'll be okay, correct itself in time. Taking notice, Joe wraps his arm especially tight over Nick's shoulders as they board and sit beside each other. Joe's hand rests at Nick's knee and squeezes causing Nick to look at him and smile softly. "I'm okay," he promises, waiting for his family to pass them, settle behind them, before he lets his hand rub over Joe's momentarily.  
  
"If you start getting worse, tell me, okay?" Nick nods his agreement, and Joe narrows his eyes. "I mean it, Nicholas." Nick fixes his expression by making it honest and tries nodding again, receiving another gentle squeeze to his leg.  
  
Throughout the flight they;re quiet, sticking their earphones in and listening to music. Every now and then they switch, show each other a song, sometimes sing to each other under their breath. Nick swings in and out of feeling well and not. It feels like every time he's about to honor his promise and tell his brother, he starts feeling better again. The last time he starts to feel ill, sleep overcomes him, and with his face turned into Joe, his brother thumbs gently at his chin, and then he falls into it.  
  
When the pilot announces that they're finally touching down, Joe's worried about Nick. His baby brother hasn't woken up in hours, not once, but Joe chose not to disrupt him, assuming he needed the rest. Deserved it, too. He turns to shake Nick awake, gently putting his hands on Nick's closest shoulder and pushing. Nick doesn't wake, doesn't even move to wake up. Sighing, Joe tries again. This time he looks around him to make sure no one is watching before he strokes his hand down Nick's cheek. When that doesn't work, Joe starts to get nervous. "Nick," he says forcefully, loud in his brother's ear. "Nick!" He shoves his brother gently again.  
  
It seems like no matter what he does, Nick won't wake up. As soon as they touch down, Joe ignores the seat belt sign that's still on and tears his off. "Mom! Nick won't wake up!" Denise unbuckles her seat belt too as Joe is undoing Nick's, lifting his little brother into his arms. "Nicky! Nicky, baby - J, wake up!" Joe flushes, nervous. "Oh shit... Mommy, what's wrong with him?" Denise takes the few steps over to her sons, looks at Nick in Joe's arms and brings her hand to her mouth as she brushes her hand through his hair.  
  
"Kevin," she says, trying not to get too excited, trying not to become hysterical that her baby boy isn't waking up. Joe already has his fingers to Nick's pulse point, pressing in enough to bruise, until he feels Nick's blood pumping beneath his fingers and buries his nose into the side of Nick's head where it rest on his shoulder. He whispers so soft into Nick's ear that his mother can't hear him, telling Nick to stay alive, to wake up, to be with him, that he has to get better, and that he is so, so sorry for not being more careful, more watchful.  
  
It's mostly a blur for Joe until they get to the hospital. Joe lets them put Nick in an ambulance, watches it drive away as he climbs into the car to follow the flashing lights to the hospital. The whole time he's shaking, no tears in his eyes, but his body just won't let him release the feelings that are building up inside. It's just like the last time only worse because there wasn't anything leading up to this; Nick just crashed.  
  
Waiting is hard, and Kevin and Frankie keep going back and forth between trying to distract mom, distract Joe, and distract each other while dad spends the entire time standing up, hanging around nurses stations, and alternately the room they have Nick in, trying to catch anything about his son. No one hears a word until Nick is stabilized, though apparently he's still asleep. When mom and dad go into the room first, Joe holds Frankie tight to him until his little brother stops wriggling in his grip and softens, hugs Joe back when he realizes how much his older brother needs it. Kevin pats him on the back and Joe takes a deep breath in before mom and dad come back out saying Nick woke up.  
  
Carefully Kevin skirts the subject and says that maybe three brothers going into see him all at once might be too much and Joe nods his head, letting Kevin take Frankie in for a whole of five minutes before Joe gets some time alone. Their parents talk to the doctors, now that they've seen Nick was doing better, actually looking alive. Quietly, Joe walks into the room. Nick looks up at him from the tube connected to his arm. He's on oxygen which is a scary thought, but Joe's thankful for it.  
  
He doesn't know how this happens. How he goes from being shocked, scared quiet, to breaking down at the side of Nick's bed but his face is wet, and Nick's arm that he held, cried on, is wet when he finally pulls himself together enough to talk. "I'm so sorry, baby boy," he says shakily, wiping at his eyes. Nick shakes his head as much as he can. "No, I should have looked out for you better. I should have woken you up sooner. I should have made you tell mom you weren't feeling well..." He kisses Nick's hand, as his brother squeezes his own, too gone to get any words out. His eyes are red and he just looks so _tired_. Before Joe can say anything else, utter the 'Don't leave me...' he feels the need to say, Nick blacks out again.  
  
When Nick wakes up again, the light coming through the window is different. He glances at the clock in his white, sterile hospital room and sees that it's nine, in the morning, judging by the sun. He would have expected someone to be there for him when he woke up, especially Joe. There isn't anyone in the room other than himself. He yawns, taking a second in the quiet to assess how he feels. A lot better, he decides, almost good again. After being asleep for so long, it's nice to be awake. However, he doesn't feel comfortable in a hospital bed all alone with no idea what really happened. Finding the nurses' button, he presses his thumb to it and watches the light beside his bed turn on. A silhouette of a the classic-looking nurse turns creamy-orange from creamy-white.  
  
It doesn't take long before a nurse comes in, dark hair, round, with wide brown eyes and a half-smile. Her badge reads Dorian, and he makes a mental note of it. She greets him gently, and picks up the clip board at the foot of his bed before making an 'o' face. He isn't too happy about that. Definitely not a good sign. "Um..." he starts, voice scratchy.  
  
"Hold on just a moment," she says, holding up a pudgy finger. She replaces the board and walks out of the room as Nick sits up part-way, ready to ask her to come back. Sighing when he realizes it's futile, Nick lies back again to conserve his energy. A second later, Dorian and a doctor - Rien, come into the room. Rien isn't his physician but Nick hopes that doesn't mean anything new has popped up. He really doesn't need anything more than Diabetes and stalker fans, and being in an incestuous (but wonderfully loving) relationship to trial him. He thinks God's got all of the bases covered already.  
  
Again, his clip board is removed from the foot of the bed, this time by the doctor who pulls a pen from his pocket and turns the top until the ball of it emerges, ready to write. "Now, sir, I will inform you of your health status, but then I will need you to give me your information, name, date of birth, social security number, insurance company, and of course, if there is anyone we can call to inform of your situation." Nick blinks. He blinks again.  
  
"I think there's a mistake, Doctor. My family was just in here yesterday... I'm - Nick Jonas," he offers, looking up and over like it might actually mean he will get to see the board that holds his patient information. It doesn't. The doctor furrows his eyebrows and looks up at Nick for a moment.  
  
Shaking his head, voice more gentle now. "No, I'm afraid you're mistaken Mr. - Jonas. You were brought in yesterday. Unfortunately, our records do not state who brought you in, but we don't have any of your information, and there were no visitors to this room." His voice sounds grave and almost pitying. Nick swallows. He remembers very clearly that fact that his family had seen him, that Joe had _cried_ on him. It wasn't a dream. He knows it wasn't.  
  
"That... isn't possible. I'm always with my family. We were flying in from Europe. There's no one else who would have checked me in. You have to have the wrong clip board." The doctor nods humorlessly at the urgency in his voice.  
  
"We _will_ look into it. But sir, I promise you that we have a very organized hospital. This is the right board." Nick inhales and sighs, sitting back in the bed, feeling how his gut twists. "First though, I have to let you know... We have run a variety of tests. I am sorry to tell you this, but Mr. Jonas, you have Diabetes." Nick smirks at that.  
  
"I'm... aware, thank you." The doctor looks back at the board, shakes his head.  
  
"My apologies. We have a rule here at the hospital, not to go through a patient's possessions. We didn't know."  
  
"It's okay," Nick smiles, but feels like rolling his eyes, maybe. Joe certainly would have. Or he would have pretended that was a huge surprise, making the doctor feel like an idiot, which would have been pretty hilarious and slightly embarrassing. Nick smiles at just the thought of it, almost breaking into a laugh. "So do you know why - well, what happened?" Nick asks, curiosity finally getting the better of him.  
  
The doctor gives a weak nod. "It simply appears as though there was a stutter in your system, from your brain, to the regulation of your blood. Unfortunately, none of our tests have been able to determine the cause. Also," the doctor says, flipping the first sheet back and folding it over the metal clip, "In our readings at about twelve this morning, your monitors recorded a complete stop in heart beat and brain waves, but it was only for one beat. We came in and made certain everything was stable. You seemed to be well on your way to recovery. I am sorry that we do not have more information for you. You should be in a state ready for discharge later tonight unless you wish to stay one more night?" Nick shakes his head. He wants out. He _hates_ hospitals.  
  
"Alright," the doctor says, writing a few notes down. "I will have them check for anything that may have been misplaced, but if we are unable to find anything with a half an hour, I will need you to fill out our forms. Have you been to this hospital before?"  
  
"I was born here..." Nick says, perturbed. The doctor nods. Before he can ask, Nick offers his birth date which the doctor jots down quickly.  
  
"Thank you for your time." Nick nods again, slumping back in his bed as the doctor leaves.  
  
Dorian steps up beside him. "Can I get you anything...?" she asks, voice sweet. Nick clears his throat.  
  
"Maybe some water?" The response is immediate, and as soon as he can feel his throat instead of sand, he feels even better than before, despite the obvious - being in a hospital that misplaces information, and apparently memories of visitors, of entire families. Nick shakes his head, sucking up more cool water through the plastic straw. _God_.  
  
The half hour passes, each minute with Nick waiting for them to come in and apologize, holding up his records, and saying they would call his family right away. Really, he'd been expecting even _more_ , for his family to show up. A different nurse comes in holding papers, and for a moment he has the gall to smirk until she draws his tray over his lap and hands him a pen, his smile slipping.  
  
"Sir, we were unable to locate your file. You said you were born here?" she asks, her voice sounding as though it hopes his answer will be in the negative. He nods and her lips turn down. "There are no... records of your birth in our system. Perhaps it was in a different hospital, and you just... forgot," she suggests without giving him room to object. "So we would really appreciate if you would fill out these forms to the best of your knowledge. If you're unsure of something, feel free to call someone in for help, and also when you finish so that we can get everything settled in here."  
  
As she walks out, Nick pushes at his eyes with the heels of his palms, then inhales as deeply as possible before setting to work.  
  
A few hours pass from the time he turned in his paper work. The doctor stopps outside of Nick's room, the door partially closed since the last nurse left. With a nurse, and a higher authority, Rien informs them of the situation. He tells them that he called every one of the contacts Nick had listed, and Nick can hear the voices outside his door. "Nick Jonas does not exist to them. I think we will have to investigate. He may have to go into foster care." Nick hears mumbled agreements, and some pitying noises before his doctor enters the room.  
  
"Mr. Jonas, I was wondering if there might be any body else we could call for you?"  
  
Brows furrowed, Nick tries to think of what to say, furious about what he'd heard but knowing that they were just concerned for him. Truth be told, he's mad at his family too. No one seems to be picking up the phone any time he tries to call from the hospital room. "You can't get a hold of my parents?" he asks. The doctor shakes his head. "They're," Nick tries, face muscles tense beneath his skin, "Really good to me. Usually they would be right here. Something must have happened. That's all," he informs the doctor, silently trying to tell Rien it isn't necessary for any CPS investigations, anyone to come and look him over.  
  
"I'm sure," Rien said, eyes hesitant, and he nods. "So there isn't anyone else I can call for you?" Nick shakes his head adamantly, and the doctor walks out, pulling the door mostly shut behind him. "No changes," he says softly. "We'll have to call someone about this, and it seems he'll need therapy. There's really nothing else we can do for him until then." Nick feels a shiver go through his body. It's all too much to handle, to have to go through. There are too many problems. Issues. There's something _seriously_ wrong.  
  
Earlier they had taken him off of the oxygen, which feels a lot better, though his nose is sort of sore. Nick isn't really one to complain about pain though, part of the reason he's here, probably, but he's also stubborn. Chewing at his bottom lip, he looks around for his things. On a chair by the window, Nick sees his pants, shirt, and jacket laying there, his wallet, kit and dog tags in a bag. He rolls his eyes. Not aware of his Diabetes. Okay...  
  
Usually he wouldn't do anything without seriously thinking about the consequences beforehand, but this situation is so sticky he feels like he's drowning in it, like honey being poured down his throat, too much, too fast, filling up his lungs. He has to get out, has to wash himself of it. His dad is incredible about getting out of problematic situations, and he'll fix whatever Nick messes up, which obviously won't be as much as the hospital is about to.  
  
Pulling off everything that makes him half-cyborg, Nick wobbles over to his clothes, legs re-learning. He ignores the sound of the flat-lining machine behind him and makes his way out the door, around a corner. Seriously, he never thought he'd have to be this stealthy in his life, so much like James Bond, but that's what he had thought before he became famous. Guess Nick Jonas could be wrong once in a while after all...  
  
When he gets to a bathroom, he closes the door quietly behind him and locks the door. Nick throws his robe into the trash can; he'll pay for it later, he guesses, if the hospital doesn't end up in debt to _him_ after this whole mess is cleaned up (a penalty which, of course, he would negate after he'd had the satisfaction). Throwing his white v-neck over his head, pulling on his leather jacket, and pulling up a pair of boxers and jeans, Nick runs his fingers over his wallet.  
  
If they weren't allowed to go through his possessions, then he wonders why his driver's license and debit card is missing from inside. Not only that, but the key ring in the fold doesn't hold his house key. He'll just have to pray his family is home when he arrives. Thankfully there's some cash in his wallet, enough, he hopes, to get him to his house. He'll have to call to cancel his card when he gets there.  
  
He places his wallet in one back pocket and his kit in the other before sliding his dog tags around his neck, stuffing them down his shirt. It would have helped to have sunglasses, but he remembers he hadn't been wearing them on the plane, so he'll just have to be careful on his way out.  
  
Finally outside after way too many close calls Nick asks to borrow a cell phone when he finds that his is no longer working. He calls a cab, deciding he needs to get home as soon as possible. If he called his family, if they came down, if he waited too long... He doesn't know what would happen, but it certainly wouldn't be good. When a cab is on its way, he hands the cell phone back to the stranger and expresses his gratitude, walks around to the front where he told the taxi company to meet him.  
  
By the time his driver arrives, Nick feels queasy, but there's no going back into that hospital after what he's experienced. Pulling the door open, Nick climbs into the back seat and tells the Cabbie where to go as he slams the door shut. It's quiet the whole way there and he keeps his fingers wrapped around the dog tags he wears around his neck.  
  
After hitting some traffic, his eyes falling closed now and again, they finally pull to a stop in front of the community at his request. It'll be easier to get in if he's walking, and his house isn't far. Sighing in relief, he pulls out his wallet, asks for the price, and pays the man up front, thanking him as he gets out and walks toward the gates that surround the community he lives in. The two men in the security house look him up and down from their window and he waves to them, inhaling and stepping up to the window. "Hey. Can you gentlemen open the gates for me please?" he asks politely.  
  
"Possibly," one of them answers, "What's your name, sir?" he asks, looking down at a sheet of paper.  
  
Studying him for a second, Nick finally shrugs and answers, "Um... Nick Jonas. 395. I live, just -" he lifts a hand to point at a roof that pokes up in the sky, not too far away, "-There." The guard turns back to look at another guy and seems to ask him a silent question. Nick watches the exchange, knits his brows when the other guy shrugs, and the guard he's talking to runs his finger, down the list of residents.  
  
He shakes his head as he looks back up at NIck. "Sorry, but apparently you _don't_ live there."  
  
"What?" Nick asks, shocked, but keeping his cool with just one raised eyebrow. "Yes. I do. I'm Nick Jonas. Jonas Brothers... Denise and Kevin are my parents," he explains, careful to remain respectful. The guard shakes his head again. This time both of Nick's eyebrows shoot up. "Yes I am. I promise."  
  
"Well..." the man answers seemingly humoring Nick, "Do you have an ID?"  
  
That's when he bites his lip and lets his shoulders fall. "No. I did but... Someone at the hospital must have taken it."  
  
"Maybe you should get back there then, to the _hospital_ ," he leers, "And come back when you've got it."  
  
"Look," Nick says roughly, having had enough, "I've met you both before. I've come through these gates often enough. I know you both know me and my name - it's on that list, okay? I've had a very long morning, and I'm tired. I'm sick, and I just want to go home. Could you please cut it out, at least cut me some slack, and let me in?"  
  
Laughing in his face, the guy turns around, leaving Nick to stand there. Eyes narrowing, Nick turns heel and walks away. He'll have to get far enough away that they can't see him scaling his _own_ gate. When he finds a good spot in the shadows, Nick pulls his jacket off so that he has more room to work, and begins climbing, slipping a few times before finally gripping right, muscles straining and pulling against his stretched skin, shaking with the effort until he gets over, sweaty and flushed.  
  
Winding his way around houses, Nick finds his home and sighs with relief as he walks up the path to the door. Of course the door is locked, gated community or not. It's proven that nearly anyone can get in despite the slightly intimidating security booth. Nick wonders about the back door, the windows, as he wipes the back of his hand across his sweat-peppered forehead. There's nothing he wants more than to be upstairs in his bedroom napping. At the moment Joe's not welcome, Nick still upset by the fact he's been forced to work his way hellishly slow through the day without him.  
  
There is the window above the kitchen sink that mom had been having problems with before. It's on the smaller side, but big enough, and the more Nick considers it, he's sure he can rock it off it's track, let himself in once he gathers enough energy to pull himself up and through the opening.  
  
They have a brick wall on either side of the house, and when Nick approaches it, he stretches to get his fingers curved over the top edge of it, rests his forehead against the warm brick for a moment, and then sucks in a deep breath before working his way up and over the other side. One the way down his elbow catches, and he winces harshly, curse words on the tip of his tongue before he feels a telling bead of warmth trickle down his forearm.  
  
Closing his eyes, Nick takes a moment to regain himself, to remind himself what end he's trying to meet. A shower. A bed. Eventually his family. Putting this mess behind him.  
  
Loosening the window takes around twenty minutes, but he finally gets it undone. Getting in isn't as hard as he thought it would be, but figuring out how not to dump himself head-first onto the floor is definitely as difficult as one would imagine. It ends in him standing on one foot while he stretches his other ankle, he's pretty positive he just twisted. "Not going back to the hospital," he mumbles before realizing the feeling of something rising up in his stomach. It's churning and he closes his eyes tightly before running for the toilet.  
  
Wiping at his mouth, Nick stands up, rinses with a small cup of water, and then slinks out of the bathroom. He flops onto a chair in the foyer, his heart rate up, and his eyes slip closed again. Before he can fall asleep, Nick removes his kit from his back pocket, cleans a finger and pricks it, checking his blood. Obviously his levels are off, low. Making his way slowly to the fridge, he pulls out a juice and chugs it back, stomach gurgling. It takes around ten minutes before he starts feeling the affect of it, sitting on the bar stool at the counter. When he feels better, he takes out his Omnipod from the kit, cleans it, and fixes it in place on his stomach. Almost immediately he regrets the decision when he remembers how badly he needed a shower, but ultimately decides to take one later.  
  
His family isn't home, obviously, after so long of not seeing anyone. It makes no sense. Someone is always around when they're all home. Nick moves to the phone and dials Joe first. The phone rings and rings, and then finally Joe picks up.  
  
"Joseph," Nick says, relief flooding him, and he forgives Joe instantly for not being there. He just wants Joe to be with him now, he realizes. "Where _are_ you guys...?"  
  
"We're - uh, who is this?"  
  
It's extra nice to hear Joe's voice considering how unwell Nick feels. "It's me, doofus."  
  
"I don't - I'm sorry, but you're going to have to tell me."  
  
"... Joe. Don't right now. I've had a really - do you even know - whatever. I'll talk to you when you get home. You _will_ be home soon, right?"  
  
"Yes... but -"  
  
"Kay, good. I'll see you." Nick hangs up the phone. It's somewhat amusing though irritating that his brother probably hasn't even put their home number in because they're gone so much, use cell phones to keep the house bills down where they can. It's easier that way, and Nick doesn't really blame him. The whole game of 'Who is this...?' was old; Nick seriously doesn't need that. Plus the fact that Joe ignored the fact Nick was supposed to be hospital-ridden angers him. His nostrils flare as he opens the fridge again. He raises an eyebrow, shuts the door, and moves to the pantry. Sighing frustratedly, he walks back to the fridge. Seriously? No diet cokes? They always have some _somewhere_.  
  
He heats up some frozen grilled chicken and pours a glass of water before he sits at the kitchen island, one hand holding the paper plate between his fingers like it might slip away otherwise. Everything else is flying out of hand, so maybe he's paranoid. At least he isn't over-reacting. In fact, he's pretty sure he's more calm than most would be in his situation. Trust is a big thing; he trusts his family to help fix whatever was going on at the hospital, with the idiot security the community hired. He'd met them at least ten times, so what the hell...  
  
As he takes the last bite of his chicken gone cold, and sips at his water, Nick hears the door open. "I don't know... I just wish people would stop lying," he hears his mother say. Chest untwisting, Nick gets off of the bar stool and jogs into the hall way that leads to the entry way.  
  
"Mom, before you get mad at me, there was some huge -" he hears his mother scream, and her eyes widen as he comes into view. He gives her a confused look. Before he can apologize and explain, his father steps in front of everyone.  
  
"Wait. Right there," his dad says and Nick feels the muscles in his back tense up.  
  
"Dad -"  
  
"If your father needs help - no. No. This is just wrong. You do not break into people's houses, son. Kevin," his dad says, glancing back at Nick's oldest brother. "Call security." Nick's jaw drops then, would have dropped sooner if he'd understood anything his dad had been saying. Kevin swallows thickly, presses a red button on the keypad beside their door. "We won't -"  
  
"Dad!" Nick says, looking around for Joe and Frankie, but they're no where in sight, so he settles his eyes back on his father's face. "I had to leave the hospital! Did you guys even - what on earth...? I'm not rabid, I swear," Nick says hurriedly, blowing out some air in frustration. "What is _wrong with you_ guys? The people at the hospital started talking about foster care, or something - I don't even know... I don't want to know. But from the way you guys are acting..." He leaves it unsaid that maybe foster care wouldn't be so bad after all, not meaning it of course but _Jesus_.  
  
Denise places a hand on his dad's shoulder and steps in closer, whispering something into his ear and Nick rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous," he mumbles, ignoring how hard his heart is pounding in his chest, ignoring how _scared_ he actually is. "If Joe put them up to this..." he continues, trying to think of something that will help this situation make sense. Really, that doesn't help at all. Mom and dad would never go along with a prank like this. There has to be some explanation though.  
  
"Alright, alright," Kevin says carefully, hand out as though Nick's wielding a sword. "My wife is going to call the hospital. If everything checks out, we won't - we won't press charges. Don't do anything rash, now. Understand...?" he asks, and Nick's eyes follow his mother to the phone by the stairs. He sucks in a breath and holds it before nodding. Because sure, whatever to get this out of their system. He listens carefully to the words his mother says as she speaks quietly to someone on the other end. His eyes burn throughout the phone call. Still holding the phone to her ear, she turns back to his dad and nods. She places the phone back on the receiver when he nods back.  
  
The security guards knock on the door then and Kevin lets them in. Nick freezes. "This isn't..." he starts, voice shaky, tries to force himself to laugh. "This isn't funny guys, seriously." Backing up slowly, he watches his dad hold out a hand, motioning for him to steady. Nick stops, watching. His dad turns to their security and seemingly dismisses them but then a really big guy, black and face set to stone comes in. Big Rob. Nick could thank God in a prayer right there, kneeling in the hall way. Rob would never do this to him, never.  
  
"Rob," Nick says, thankfully, and all of them look at him a bit strangely. "Okay, man, come on. This can stop now, am I right?" Nick asks hopefully. Face falling steadily as Big Rob gets closer and closer, Nick feels himself shrink in the presence of one of his best friends.  
  
Stepping into Nick's space, Rob sets a hand on his shoulder, pressing down slightly, causing Nick's knees to bend under the pressure. "Listen close, kid," Rob says stiffly, voice serious and warning, deep and drowning. The tone is one he's heard before, when Nick had watched Rob come up behind some guy who'd more or less been harassing them when they were leaving a venue once. _Fuck_. "You won't get hurt, they won't get hurt, but you just sit over on those stairs over there and you stay there. Clear?" Nick hadn't noticed his father go off toward his office to call the hospital and arrange for Nick to be picked up, too focused on the gentle teddy bear he'd come to love, as he bodily threatened him. Shaking it off, Nick nods, tries to walk over to the stair case. Rob squeezes his shoulder until Nick winces and _then_ lets Nick go sit where he'd been told.  
  
With one arm over her stomach and the other bent so that her fingers were on her lower lip, Denise repeatedly looks from Rob, to Kevin, back to Nick with a funny expression on her face. Kevin's standing close and protective at their mother's side, arms across his chest, and Rob stands relaxed but watching by the stair rail. Nick lets his face fall into his hands, elbows propped up on his bent knees. It's just a second before the front door pushes open, knocking Kevin over just slightly as he grips the door and pulls it open, peeking around the wood to see Joe and Frankie all smiles, holding a kite they'd apparently been trying to fly outside until they got bored. Nick looks up at the sound, eyes immediately brightening when he sees Joe.  
  
"Joe," he breathes out, a relieved smile coming to his face. Joe hands Frankie off to Kevin who whispers something quickly, and then Joe raises an eyebrow at Nick while Kevin more or less runs Frank up the stairs passed them, kite in hand. Nick doesn't even look back as they leave, eyes trained on Joe. Looking to Rob to see if he can stand up, he frowns when he's given a silent 'no.' "Come on, Joseph, is this your doing or..." He barely has any hope left in him, actually, but he won't admit that to himself. He needs this to be a joke possibly more than anything he'd ever thought he needed before.  
  
"My...? What - I - You... You're the one who called me, aren't you?" Nick nods his head, eyebrows rising in condescension. Stepping closer, Joe ignores the hand on his arm. "The hospital huh?" Nick rolls his eyes and slumps back against the stairs. When Joe comes closer, Nick resists the urge to jump up and hug him, tell him what a jerk he is for playing with him. Instead he waits until Joe sits beside him, and runs his hand down Joe's back, Joe scooting away slightly, but giving what appears to be a shy smile. Now Nick knows. Joe isn't playing, and he isn't talking to him like everything is normal. He's talking to him like Nick's some poor, crazy kid who's unfortunate and needs to be regarded with hesitant care. His body goes tense immediately, sitting up and his eyes dart between everyone.  
  
"You're serious?" he asks, desperation in his voice. "You're all serious? Mom!" She shakes her head, looks away. Joe's eyes widen with shock. "No. No!" Nick says, standing up from the stairs, Rob glaring at him, but not letting him do anything. "I'm your son. Oh my God, you can't be serious... I was born in Dallas," he tried. "We moved to Jersey. I was on Broadway. I made a solo album. We started the Jonas Brothers. Joe?" he asks, looking down at his brother who was sitting there, mouth open, and speechless. "Jesus, no," Nick says, voice cracking as he clenches his hands at his side. "You're my family!" he yells at them.  
  
At that, Joe reaches up, grabs Nick's elbow and pulls him down gently, looking afraid to be doing so. "Hey, it's okay," he says soothingly, though it doesn't help Nick at all. Joe is talking to a stranger. Rubbing at his eyes until they're like kaleidoscopes, Nick huffs out a breath and holds back the tears tearing at his eyes from behind. "You'll be all right. We won't hurt you, you're safe here." Nick wants to say _duh_. Tell Joe that's how it's always been, and that of course he'd be safe in his own home where he has security to protect him, but now they're the ones watching him, making sure he doesn't hurt anyone. Growling in the back of his throat, Nick puts his head in his arms and forces himself to keep breathing, nearly reaching hyperventilation by the time there's a knock at the door.  
  
Like information always falls from the sky, into people's brains, Nick knows immediately what the knock on the door is. He lifts his head, looking at it, watching as his dad comes back into the entry way, opens the door and a doctor with paramedics enters. Shaking his head, Nick feels his stomach drop until it feels like he's got a huge hole inside of him. "No... No," he pleads, looking back to Joe. "Listen, please. If they take me now, I'll never see you again. I won't ever see any of you again. Joseph, please, please?" he begs, hands gripping his brother's knees and holding them tightly, holding Joe's attention. Naturally, Joe pulls Nick in close, hugs him so that Nick is practically covering him up.  
  
Whispering carefully in his ear, Joe shushes Nick. "Hey, I'm gonna talk to them, okay? I'll do what I can. What's your name?" Nick felt so much in that embrace. His life coming back, and slipping through his fingers, his heart pounding out of his chest, and tears welling in his eyes when his own brother, best friend, asks what his name is. He whispers it quickly, throat clenching around it as though it isn't even his name to speak anymore. Joe nods, brushing against the side of Nick's head. Joe gives him a squeeze and not wanting to ruin his chances, Nick lets go at the right moment, sitting back on the stairs, hiding his face again. He's so overwhelmed, too much to cry, but his face burns red and he feels like he'll have a heart attack at any second.  
  
This is Hell: Life gone wrong. Nick is very _literally_ in _Hell_. He can't be reached, because there is no one left to reach him.  
  
Somehow it only took Joe a half an hour or so to talk everyone into letting Nick stay, give him his own room, the guest room, and to have a therapist come see him until he's well again. A nurse would also be supplied, just until Nick had three consecutive days of his levels being steady, and then Nick would be allowed to carry on with taking care of his physical self. It was the mental part of him everyone was concerned about.  
  
For some reason Joe became attached to the kid within moments, maybe as soon as he'd felt Nick's hand on his back. He'd moved away, but it didn't mean it hadn't felt warm. So with Joe's words, his emotion, and his passion, Nick has a room, a place to stay, and a family to care for him until the therapist can fix him.  
  
His first session is the day after everything is settled. Joe is showing him around the house, and Nick insists he knows where everything is already, but when he goes to show Joe his own room, to prove that he _is_ his brother, it's just a guest room, everything that had been Nick's - is gone. His gasp at everything missing, the way he frantically searches the room for even one guitar, causes Joe to pull him in for another hug. Joe sees himself having to give Nick a lot of those, not that he minds. Nick holds on to him steadfast and tight, holding him like he once held Joe all the time, his hands fitting over the muscles in Joe's back almost perfectly. Joe notices, but he doesn't have a lot of people embracing him like this, and maybe everyone would seem to fit perfectly...  
  
When Nick gets over the loss of his things, for the most part, and stops clinging to his brother, Joe tells him he can wear some of Kevin's clothes since Joe is a bit too small to share, otherwise he would. Nick nods; he knows that. Clothes, he can handle. Breathing in and out, Nick follows Joe to Kevin's room and pulls out a couple of things he knows Kevin won't miss as much. Kevin, to a stranger, would never say anything, but Nick knows if they still remembered him, Kevin would be pissed if he took certain clothes. Joe seems impressed by what Nick chooses and leaves behind. Nick resists the urge to hug Joe again just because he wants to. Just because it's Joe.  
  
Nick showered, dressed, and got straight into bed. After reading up on Diabetes, Joe brings up a small plate of food, and a drink his mother put together, and gave it to Nick with a soft, concerned smile. "You should probably eat. I don't want you making yourself sick..." Nick's eyes fall to the plate and he shakes his head. He could honestly cared less about his stupid _illness_ at that moment. "Please?" Joe asks, and Nick sees a hint of what would have been a full-on puppy dog pout had he not been an idiot and somehow woken up in the worst universe, possibly ever. Taking the plate, Nick lifts it, pulling a piece of the beef to his mouth and takes a bite for show, and then pulls the cup from his brother's hand. Joe grins and claps him on the shoulder. "Thanks." Rolling his eyes, Nick lets Joe close the door and walk away. The food is still on the plate in the morning, drink only half gone.  
  
He's scrubbing the plate off and placing his unnecessarily used dishes into the dishwasher with familiarity when there's a knock at the door. Moving to go open it, Nick pauses at the doorway of the kitchen when he remembers it isn't his door to answer anymore.  
  
Kevin Sr. leads Nick and Dr. Gallo up to an extra office on the second level, leaving Nick to speak alone with his new therapist.  
  
"Would you be willing to tell me what's running through your head right now?" Her voice is calm, and her tone sounds like a real person is talking to him; it's nice, but it doesn't make it much easier.  
  
Cocking his head to the side and then finally deciding to speak, Nick rolls up his shirt-sleeves absent-mindedly, then speaks. "I'm thinking about how this shouldn't happen. I'm wondering how my own family could forget me, and apparently the entire world for that matter. How suddenly my records are gone, and how I don't even know - how to act around them anymore..." Nick feels his face heat up. This is probably one of the worst parts about having his family have no clue who he was. He can't be himself around them, not really, especially not with Joe. "God, this is - beyond words. I can't even tell you how I feel," he tells her honestly, throat constricting over each word like the reversal of a snake swallowing a rat whole.  
  
The first few sessions are just as helpful, which is not at all. Over time though, Dr. Gallo finds a way, not to help him during, but after the sessions when he can think freely again and go over what everyone is saying, what he's saying, what she thinks everyone _should_ be saying.  
  
After about a week of living at 'the Jonas' residence', Nick starts to take care of himself again, and by the second week, his nurse, at least, is gone. It isn't one thing in particular that makes Nick eat more regularly, and check his levels at more appropriate intervals. It's the way Frankie keeps pulling him aside to show him tricks he's learned with a ball or a yo-yo. It's the way his mom tries to learn what food he likes. It's the way his dad talks to him about school and his future interests (though he steps back for a few days, wondering if Nick isn't just a very skilled stalker when he says he'd like to get into music production). It's the way Kevin shows him his guitar collection and even lets Nick touch them. Nick tries to act somewhat excited even though he's touched them a million times before and would have much rather been touching his own guitars.  
  
Mostly, though, it's the way Joe tries to keep up with everything Nick is doing, and keeps inviting Nick to hang out with him like they're old friends. Nick has to refrain from going on and on about things he and Joe did together in the past because they _were_ old friends; Joe has no recollection to speak of.  
  
About three months in, Nick has the best night since he's started over. He'd been sitting with one of Kevin's borrowed guitars playing songs he, Joe, and Kevin had written together when Joe pushes his door the rest of the way open. As he leans against the molding of the door, he raises an eyebrow, smiling at the tune, until Nick lets the notes float away and raises his head with questioning eyes. "Can I take you to a movie?"  
  
"Just us?" he asks, he's sure, sounding more hopeful than he should, but doesn't actually care. He watches Joe swallow, and almost smirks.  
  
"Yeah..." Joe breaths out and then clears his throat. "I mean, but if you don't want to... That's-"  
  
"Joe, shut up." Joe did. "Of course I want to," Nick smiles, and it's sincere and real, and even he feels sick from how happy he feels, no longer used to that emotion. Joe smils back just as big and gestures for Nick to follow him. Nick grabs some shoes as he sets Kev's guitar carefully on his bed, and slips them on out in Joe's car. "What movie?" he asks, but it doesn't matter if they see flowers dancing and singing for two hours straight.  
  
"Thought I'd let you pick when we get there," Joe seems to test, brows furrowing together until Nick laughs, and then he smiles in triumph.  
  
Nick picks the movie, but he does it according to Joe's most recent tastes. More indie, and cultural, but also leaning toward the comedic side of things. It's specific, but Nick finds one he thinks encompasses the three well enough. Joe seems to like it a lot, and neither one of them seem to notice how easily and quickly Nick slips under his arm, closed into his side.  
  
Honestly, Nick doesn't want to go back home. He wants to sit out in Joe's car and talk for years, until Joe remembers him, or doesn't, but at least until they're only living for each other and they're all that matters. It's selfish, so he only asks Joe to let them sit out in the car for fifteen minutes longer when forty-five minutes has already slipped by. They're still warm from sitting close. Joe grants him that much easily, and even fifteen more before he says they should probably get Nick to bed. They both laugh when it's easily recognizable that Joe is the one who needs sleep out of the both of them, as he yawns when he reached for the car door handle.

  
Making sure Nick is settled into bed before leaving, just standing out side the door until Nick tells him he was done putting on his pj's, Joe hears a quiet, "Joe?" as he makes his way out the door.  
  
"Yeah?" he asks, whisper-soft, turning back.  
  
"I'm -" Nick pauses, sighs in frustration, and then tries again. "I'm lonely."  
  
"Want me to sleep in here...?" Joe offers, sounding cautious. Nick nods and though it's dark, Joe catches the movement. He planned to sleep on the floor honestly, but when he'd come back in his pajama pants and loose-fitting tank top, Nick had scooted to the far edge of the bed and the covers were lifted for him. Joe can't say it isn't inviting, and he and Nick have something, definitely, that he hadn't ever had with anyone else. So, he climbs into the bed, making sure to give Nick plenty of space. When he wakes up the next morning, he tries to ignore how soft and sweet, at peace, Nick seems to be with his arm thrown over Joe's waist, and his head in the space right above Joe's shoulder, nose against Joe's cheek. He pries himself away carefully, only waking Nick with the creak of the door. Nick smiles softly until something flashes over his face, and not wanting to see Nick in too much pain, Joe leaves as Nick pushes his face into the pillow nearly ready to suffocate himself.  
  
It's after that night, though, that a few things change. Joe starts touching Nick more, and Nick almost feels normal when he's with him. Not only that, but the night alone together, made him realize that as long as he's deemed crazy, he'll never be able to have Joe all the way, and he'd probably never get Joe back. Joe with memories of when Nick got Diabetes and passed out with worry. Joe with memories of when he dated Miley and broke his own heart in the process of breaking hers. Joe with the memories of the first time Nick had taken his hand and inter-locked their fingers together. But at least, maybe, if he becomes sane in Joe's eyes, he can have something else. Something good.  
  
Joe and Nick grow steadily together, spending more time alone, even as Nick finds time to spend with the rest of his family too. He teaches Kevin some new-old songs, pitches to Frankie, helps his mom cook, and even goes with dad to the production company offices every once in a while. He can tell that they're beginning to look at him as some sort of pseudo sibling, the son they never actually had. The way his father listens to his ideas and praises him even makes it sound like he's got a job promised to him at the company when Nick turns eighteen. Mom makes a cake for him when he explains that he already graduated, in celebration. Only after he checks his levels, does she let him eat it. Kevin actually gives Nick his pick of a guitar, and Frankie starts to pull Nick by the hand every which way just like he used to. As things start coming together in a new light, Nick lets other things unravel while with his therapist. Something's holding him back, however, from completely letting himself go to it.  
  
Then one day, sitting together on the couch, letting his head flop to the side so that he's facing Nick, Joe seems to look right through him as he quietly says, "I want to say something but I'm not sure it won't..."  
  
Nick understands, lifts his fingers up to Joe's hair and brushes over it. "It's okay. Tell me..." He's not sure if he really wants to hear it, but if it seems an important enough thought for Joe to bring up, he's going to listen anyway. It can't really damage him at this point, since he isn't really getting 'fixed' like they all think, because he's never actually been broken.  
  
"When I saw you... that day - you seemed familiar, but I know I've never met you before. I didn't know you before, but there was just - nothing. I guess it was nothing," Joe corrects, quickly, feeling Nick let his hand fall as the words are spoken. When Joe finishes, staring off at nothing, Nick is sure his face looks stiff and stunned.  
  
Before Joe cansee, he turns into the arm of the couch, hiding himself just enough and closes his eyes tightly. He wishes, more than anything in the world that he could tell Joe it wasn't nothing, ask him if that didn't prove that there was something wrong, say that they were brothers. If he did, it would be back to the very first therapy session. Even worse, they'd probably remove him from the home entirely. He'd never be allowed to see them again. They'd hate him for being crazy and permanently broken. They'd hate him for being him.  
  
Joe flipps on the television, and Nick has never been more open to the idea of letting the t.v. rot his brain. At some point Joe's hand comes to cradle Nick's elbow, and by the time his mother gets home, Nick's head is in Joe's lap, his older brother playing with his hair with one hand, the other around his waist. Nick doesn't even have to get up. Doesn't have to move, because to them, he isn't sinning. For the first time it almost feels like there could be an upside, practically insignificant, but he doesn't have much good to focus on...  
  
That night though, Joe's words settle inside of him, and he knows that if he doesn't do something soon, he might back out and do something to ruin everything all over again.  
  
Over half a year ago, Nick began therapy. A doctor comes to his - the Jonas' house and little by little he acknowledges that what he believed to be true did not fit the situation. Slowly his doctor comes to think he's getting better, and slowly he starts to give her more reason to believe it's true by telling small lies. He tells her he can't really remember any thing from before Frankie was born. Eventually he tells her he can't really remember much about Kevin either. Or his parents. Finally, the one lie that hurts the most, he tells her that he can't - doesn't recall much about how he and Joe came to be the closest, but up until today, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say that Joe had never been in his life up until the point where he picked their name, and found his way to their home.  
  
It's time, though. Everyone forgets to look at him like some stranger living in their home. Joe starts look at him, really look at him again, like he did before, and Nick has to break the last chain that holds him back. He has to be declared medically sound for them. He has to lie for them, to be with them, to get his family back. Everything is so twisted, so wrong, but he's almost Nick in their eyes. He's almost _Nick_ again, though he will never completely be. Now, he can tell, is as close as he's ever going to get, and once the therapist is gone, they'll be able to look at him as a normal human being. There won't be anything to keep them from thinking of him as the son they just happened to gain very late in life. He's practically theirs. They will  _almost_ be his.  
  
"I remember," Nick says, definitely, when Dr. Gallo sits down in the spare office they've been using for the last six months. He and his doctor learned what to expect from one another, and she's come to find Nick would never hold back on anything from her. She gives him a soft smile of encouragement that tells him to continue. "It's in pieces... But, I..."  
  
"I know it can be difficult, Nick, coming back to it. It is what happens when people break through information as you've been doing. The process can be overwhelming, and take time to fully set in. It opens up many options for your future. What you remember can, and probably will change everything. But for some, when they have taken on the - outlook, such as you had, claiming an entirely new life, it often comes from wanting to forget. You may find that this truly has given you the new start perhaps you had always been looking for. Maybe you will find that you have engagements to settle. People to see, and problems to rectify."  
  
Nick takes it all in like reading a book and lets the sentence sink in before continuing. He nods, breathing in and out and trying to look very serious. "I don't know if I'll go back to anything," he says sincerely, a tear cropping up in his eye as he says it, not because, obviously, of a dark and horrible past his mind had tried to cover up, but because of his real, amazing past that he can't have. Gallo nods in understanding. She doesn't have glasses to push up the bridge of her nose, and she never crosses one leg over the other, just pays attention. It's nice, and actually, intimidating.  
  
While most therapists probably try to refrain from intimidation, Nick feels that it really helps his personal situation. If she's more aggressive, he can be. She's probably cocky enough to think she cured him with their discussions, which is well within his benefit, and he doesn't know... Maybe if he really had all of this dissociative behavior and made up lives for himself - maybe she could have cured him. He likes her, has nothing against her. In fact, over the last many months, he's grown fond of her and the type of person she is to the type of person she believes he is. The type of person he has to pretend to be to become a new type of person he really is. It's complicated and overwhelming, completely draining and depressing. Nick tries to focus on re-integrating himself into his family's lives. If therapy hadn't had so much to do with it, he would have thrown it all up in her face and probably would have cried more times than he could count. He's focused, though, driven. More than anything, by Joe.  
  
"What do you remember?" she asks softly.  
  
Nick looks down at his hands. "As long as I remember, is it necessary to discuss it?" When he peeks up at her, she's biting her bottom lip, and then shakes her head, coming to a conclusion.  
  
"No. Of course not. As long as you're able to tell the difference between reality, and between this mock-life, which you are aware of?" Nick nodds. "Then I am no longer a necessary instrument here. As long as your brain is able to make the distinction, and take time to piece together what your reality is, then I am no longer needed." Nick smiles so wide he thinks his lips might crack. She clears her throat though and while there's a hint of a smile, her expression makes his smile fall slowly and steadily. "I need you to tell me, in complete honestly, what has changed in you. What do you see as fiction from what you believed true before?"  
  
Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the middle knuckle on his index finger, Nick begins telling her, sincerity filling his voice, that everything he'd said on day one, and onward about his 'family' and his life as 'Nick Jonas' had been a lie. His name is Nicholas Jerry, but his last name is not Jonas. He was not born in Dallas, or even Texas, but he was born in New Jersey, and maybe that and the fact he is currently in Dallas, were the reasons he had mentioned them on the first day at the Jonas home.  
  
It takes some time, but Nick covers every base he can, giving her false information about his 'real past' and when he finishes, she smiles and nods like she's proud, and then she says so. "I am very proud of you. You have come so far, faced this affliction. You will do well.

 

Is there anything else you would like to talk to me about?" Nick shakes his head carefully, schooling his expression to look thankful, somewhat humble, and somewhat scared. "Nick, I'm going to stop the sessions. But, if you did need to talk to me, you can call me at any time. You have the phone numbers to reach me. If there is anything at all, don't hesitate. I will be your therapist as long as I am needed, but I think that you are ready to take it into your own hands now. Will that be okay with you?"

  
"Yes, thank you," he says, and the disbelief in his voice, he realizes, is real. He can't believe she's actually going. He thought she would. If he tried hard enough, if he made it gradual as he did. Nick thought that it would convince her, but that it _actually worked_ , amazes him. He's slightly flabbergasted, but stands to shake her hand. "I really appreciate all the work you've done with me. I don't know how... I understand, but I would never have been able to reach this point without you. I want you to know that it means a lot to me," he tells her.  
  
Dr. Gallo smiles once again and then lets Nick open the door for her. "I'm going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Jonas. I can't promise that they will keep you here. I can't make a promise of anything. I will make them aware of the situation though, and again, whatever ends up happening, you can call me if you need any assistance at all, whether it be finding a place to live, a job... Just give me a call."  
  
"Can I stay down here and wait for you to talk to them so I can find out what's going to happen to me?" Nick asks. As much as he thinks about it, he doesn't see his parents sending him away, but there is always the terrifying possibility. He feels his palms begin to sweat. If they did, he knows one person he wouldn't really be separated from, and that was Joe. He needs his family, but Joe has been treating him almost the same way he had just before they ended up as an unspoken 'together' before his entire world was changed. He'll be able to get to them again. Nick knows it and that's why he's letting Dr. Gallo cut the chain today.  
  
"Of course."  
  
After everything, Denise pulled him into a tight hug, Kevin behind her, putting an arm of his own around Nick. "We really wouldn't have it any other way. Nick, we really hope that you choose to stay with us." He could have cried, but doesn't as he hugs them back.  
  
"Please, I don't have anyw-"  
  
"It's okay," Denise hushes, placing a kiss on the top side of his head since he's just a smidge taller than her. "I'm going to make you dinner and then you and the boys can come down, and we'll eat, okay? We'll really celebrate tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it," she says again, sweet, sincere, motherly. Nick hugs her just a bit tighter and then pulls back, nodding his head and sincerely wishes emotions weren't such a physical thing. He ran up to his room before tears started pouring out of his eyes and he gave himself up as someone who still believed Denise was his mother and missed her when she was right in front of him.  
  
About an hour later, still lying on the bed, Nick hears the front door shut. Joe calls out a hello to the house, and Nick forces himself to sit up. It's a long half hour later when he hears a knock at his door, and tells his brother to enter, breathing out steadily the stress that built within him each moment Joe wasn't with him, probably talking to his parents about everything.  
  
"You're better," Joe breathes out, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him, "Officially." Nick's settled on his bed, legs over the side and his sock-covered feet flat on the ground, his hands in fists by his side. Looking around the room, Joe tries his best to think of something appropriate to say. Sort of a double-edged sword, having someone come into your life, obviously crazy, falling in love with him despite the mental illness, and then coming to an end where they were mentally sound. It feels like everything will change. It shouldn't, but it feels like it will anyway.  
  
For some reason, it feels like it might be more upsetting than before, to talk about it. Joe's eyes settle on the younger boy again, and Nick _still_ isn't looking up at him. "Nick, I..." That gets his attention enough, gets Nick looking up at him through his eyelashes, brown eyes more confused and lonely than Joe had ever seen them before. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, not knowing what else he _can_  say. He watches as Nick closes his fists tighter and feels a cord below the skin of his own neck constrict in turn. He _is_ sorry. He's sorry he couldn't be Nick's brother, that they couldn't be his family, that Nick had been in the hospital, that he had to go through therapy, that he had to realize that the life he thought he had didn't exist. Tears well up in Nick's eyes, but he doesn't cry, simply nods at Joe.  
  
Voice thick, Nick speaks up and says, "It's not your fault." Joe steps further into the room and turns to sit on the bed beside Nick, an arm stretched out behind him. Feeling like he could break down too easily and curl into Joe, Nick forces himself to lay down on his side, flipping his legs over Joe's arm, and rolls onto his back. A long time passes as he decides what he has to do, and he had plenty of time to realize what it would mean. He'll have to act like he believed what he said, and so he'll have to act... Like someone else entirely. Forcing it out he says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this. For making you - getting you all involved."  
  
Hushing him softly, Joe lifts his arm and grips Nick's knee before standing from the bed and coming around to kneel on the floor, see Nick's face and talk to him directly. "Don't be sorry... Nick, we are _all_ glad you came here. Mom, dad, Kev, Frankie - Me." Nick feels like he's ready to burst into tears and wonders if he can make it seem like an overwhelmed-happy cry, when, though resigned to this, all he wants is _Joe_ back. He isn't the one who's lost. They are. Joe is. He chokes it back, feeling for a moment as though he'll suffocate himself, holding it in. "Nick," Joe says softly, and watches as he blinks and a tear rolls out of his eye before he turns to acknowledge him. "I don't even remember anything before you got here..." Nick feels his breath catch. "I mean I do but it just feels..." Joe closes his eyes and tries to think of the right word, so Nick leans forward, bracing his hand on the side of Joe's head, and kisses him.  
  
Startled, Joe doesn't kiss back but waits for Nick to pull away. "Hey," he says softly. Nick looks him over, searches his face, but doesn't say anything back even as he stares into Joe's eyes. Looking back, Joe lets his forehead crease. He's afraid to ask and doesn't want to hurt Nick, but slowly he lets it fall from his mouth anyway. "Is that what made you realize...?" Nick closes his eyes tight, shakes his head and then turns his body into Joe for more leverage, lifting Joe up, and guiding him to straddle him on the bed as he kisses him deep and hard, terrified and angry. Once Joe's over him, he moves to pull away, but Nick lets his hands fall to Joe's shirt and twists the cloth in his fists, holding Joe to him. It doesn't matter anymore, if they're breathing or not. Nick doesn't care.  
  
To slow him down, Joe tries to pull his head back even just a little, but Nick chases him, finally missing Joe enough and biting at his lower lip to bring his lips back into him. He gives a soft hurt noise, and then Joe tries to speak even as Nick sucks at his lip. After a few attempts, he realizes it's hopeless, and sinks into Nick as much as he can, until the boy finally let his hands loosen, and then Joe grabs his wrists and pins them above Nick's head as he rips his mouth away. It leaves Nick with closed eyes, panting for air and looking like he's in horrible pain, eyelashes wet with tears. Joe presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, before pulling away again. Nick doesn't even struggle beneath him until he catches his breath, which is the opposite of what Joe would have expected.  
  
Catching his breath first, Joe breathes in and out while hovering above this seventeen-year-old kid who walked into his life, broken into it actually, and decided to throw everything around, a tornado. But he's in love with him. He's in love with Nick, who is so lost and confused, who lost an entire family, an entire life, who apparently loved him, too. Joe doesn't know how to fix a broken boy. Weren't the therapy sessions supposed to do that? Weren't they supposed to make Nick better? Wasn't this supposed to be an end to his suffering, his _fucking_ mental afflictions? Weren't they supposed to be taking care of him? When did they start destroying him instead...?  
  
When finally he can feel the burn in his lungs lessen, and his mind start to un-cloud enough to focus on Nick and not the panic within him, Joe leans down, presses his lips to the side of Nick's neck he's exposing, head reared back into the mattress as an attempt to get away. Nick doesn't even hesitate, which Joe had been hoping for, his hands still pulling and tugging eagerly away from Joe's grip despite their arms being stretched to the fullest extent. Not sure what to do, not trusting anyone else in his house, hardly trusting himself, Joe buries his head into Nick's neck and keeps the boy's hands pressed to the bed as he breathes in and out. "Nick..."  
  
"God, could you please let me go? I don't belong here. I know I don't - I never did. And I'm sorry so just let me go!" He can hear the anger, the acid in Nick's voice and he's never heard it before. Joe clamps his eyes closed when his stomach churns just listening to it, the ferocity in the bitten out words. Sucking in air, Joe lifts himself carefully, hoping Nick will have his eyes open. He does, but they're red, wet, miserable, and angry and Joe has to swallow down the lump he feels rising in his throat, his own eyes starting to water.  
  
Nodding his head slowly, he climbs off Nick, onto the floor, and then lets his wrists go, walking backwards to the door slowly. "You can't leave...," he says desperately, begging Nick to stay.  
  
Nick watches him and glares when he says that before he yells out, "I know I can't fucking leave; you're here, you fucking bastard!" Joe's eyes open wide, and he feels trapped in the doorway, watching as Nick flips himself over and buries his face in the pillow, fists clenched in the fabric under his fingers. He opens his mouth once and then closes it, steps out and shuts the door behind him. He feels like ramming the back of his head into the door but doesn't and walks downstairs to sit silently at the piano that had dust on it until Nick came into the house and acted like he owned it. He lets his fingers slip-slide over the black and white keys, notes dripping down from the wood surface, splattering onto the floor. If he stands up, he feels like he might slip.


End file.
